


Taming of the Dalek

by UncannyZuck



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Alcohol, Alien Technology, Applied Phlebotinum, Corpses, Dissection, Gen, Handwavium, Hard Science, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Implied/Referenced Torture, Laboratories, Medical Procedures, Mild Language, Military Science Fiction, Mind Manipulation, Needles, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Robotics, Science Experiments, Science Fiction, Space Stations, Strangulation, Technobabble, Unobtainium
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22521739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UncannyZuck/pseuds/UncannyZuck
Summary: Pulled off course to Sojourn Station in the far reaches of Draconian space, the Doctor discovers a team of scientists studying a nearby Dalek outpost. Finding it odd that the outpost is almost entirely undefended and left largely to its own as the Daleks mine and process a rare mineral, the Doctor is drawn to the station's own projects: the reprogramming of captured Daleks and the eventual acquisition of their asteroid base.Headed by General Theodore Pendleton, a grizzled officer from the Doctor's own past, the Time Lord has his doubts. Human plans such as these rarely go smoothly when Daleks are involved, and the Doctor has only to wait until he is called to save the day once again.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	1. A Holiday Interrupted

Classical music floated through unseen speakers as the Doctor casually danced around the TARDIS control console, making an adjustment here, a pirouette, and another adjustment there, all in time to the lilting fluting. He was a tall, snowy-haired gentleman in his third regeneration, and he found his downtime best suited to leisurely moving with the music. Usually, he’d compose himself, but he hadn’t a traveling companion for quite some time, and the isolation, he had to admit, was starting to get to him. Though, he did welcome the peaceful solitude, especially compared to his far-too-lengthy exile with UNIT. This trip was a welcome vacation; a necessary moment to himself. He could finally hear himself think.

With another turn to the music, the Doctor gave the console a pat. “We needed a bit of a holiday just to ourselves, didn’t we, old girl?”

The TARDIS’s engines thrummed in response. Smiling to himself, the Doctor skipped across the control room, his heels clicking against the white floors. He touched the wall, considering the bland bareness of the brightly-illuminated material. “Some day, perhaps, we should get some color in here. While I quite like the minimalism, it does bore me to stare at it for too long. No offense, it’s just perhaps I’ve been without stimulating company for a wee bit.” He swallowed, his throat feeling noticeably dry. “Or, rather, I’m just thirsty. That’s it. I may as well have me a nightcap. Now, don’t tell anyone that I’m drink-driving.” 

With a wink, the Doctor strode from the control room to prepare himself a gin and tonic garnished with a lime wedge. It wasn’t often that he had alcohol, but he felt himself entitled to at least one drink once in a while. Humming in time to the music, he made his way to the galley and busied himself with mixing his drink. Stirring the lime wedge round the glass and taking a moment to pummel it with his straw to better distribute the juices, he entered the control room. Leaning against the console, he sipped his drink, listening to the dull reverberations of the time machine’s engines under the trills and tintinnabulations of the chamber clavichord music. Closing his eyes, he savored the smooth travels. His course was aimless at the moment, merely traversing the Time Vortex like a stroll through a wooded park. He had no real end goal; he just was enjoying the ride. 

Taking another sip and then stirring his drink as he rested himself against the console, the Doctor faintly wondered if he should roll up to a vacation planet. Perhaps Helicon Prime where he could put up his feet for a while. Just laze about with not a care for a brief moment of comfort. He smiled, thinking about the things he’s heard of Helicon Prime back in the day. It would be a welcome vacation and they would know how to properly mix his drinks. While human bartenders tried, bless their single hearts, they just couldn’t compare to the mixologist he found in a tiny dive on Kondor V. “Now that,” the Doctor allowed his musings to become spoken words as he gave a nod and a gesture with his drink, “that was a being who could mix a fine Kondorian Sour Patch. I should drop by there again sometime…”

As he went to take another sip, the TARDIS blared out an alarm and the Doctor felt the vessel lurch as it was yanked off course. His drink, unfortunately, sloshed all over the front of his frock coat. Cursing, the Doctor resigned himself to his fate, turning in aggravation, and placing the half-empty glass on the console and switching off his music. “Now, now, what’s all the fuss?”

His eyes roaming over the console, he found the source of the klaxon; the TARDIS had picked up a distress call. “Oh dear,” he muttered, his hands quickly adjusting the course and wresting control from the autopilot, “oh dear indeed…”

A moment of muttering his laments over his missed vacation opportunity, the Doctor stabilized the craft and worked to bring it in for a landing. The old ship shuddered to a stop and he could hear muffled alarms outside, along with screams. “Oh dear, oh dear, we’ve gotten ourselves into a fine mess, haven’t we?” Straightening and rushing to the doors, he flung them wide, only to find himself materialized in the midst of a panic.

Klaxons screamed, lights flashed, and the Doctor stepped out into a large corridor. A panicked scientist ran full tilt from a lab, and before the door had a moment to shut, the Doctor ducked his head and ran in. There was smoke and chaos and a low rumbling and the Doctor knew immediately from prior experience that he was staring down the barrel of an unstable fusion reaction. Storming through the mass of frightened technicians, he reached into his coat pocket, gripping the handle of his sonic screwdriver. 

“Get out of the way!” The Doctor shoved a frazzled tech from his path with one arm, and with the other, he pointed his sonic device at the controls. “If you lot would refrain from completely losing your heads, then perhaps you wouldn’t need to outsource your help!” Moving the device from component to component and making the necessary adjustments while confusion reigned around him, he finally heard a distinct decline in the machine’s deafening alarm klaxons. “There! About time…”

The low rumble he could feel in his feet began to ease, as did the panic of the stricken scientists around him. The large machine’s angry groaning quieted and the blazing fiery red lights on the console slowly faded down into their safety green modes. The Doctor let out his breath, realizing that he had been holding it the entire time. Pocketing his sonic screwdriver and turning on his heel, he finally faced the stunned and perplexed faces of the scientists, who stood in awe at this tall Victorian gentleman who quite literally emerged from the ether just in the very nick of time to save their skins. “There we are! Right! It’s all sorted, you may calm down. Now then,” his gaze hardened as he directed it to a man whom he assumed was the lead scientist, “what in blazes were you doing?”

There was a sharp sting in “blazes,” as if he had intended for a far harsher word, but felt it better to not sully his outwardly dapper appearance with a vulgarity.

It took an agonizing several moments, but the shock and the urgency finally faded from the lead scientist’s head. He was a shorter fellow, his eyes hidden behind protective goggles. “Th-thank you…” there was a breathless quality to his words. “Thank you, sir… I—I mean, thank you… what-what did you do, exactly? Where did you—how did you get in here? For that matter… who are you?”

Despite the confused rapid-fire line of questions, the corner of the Doctor’s mouth curled into a self-satisfied smirk and he puffed out his chest, quite pleased to be able to explain his talents for a worthy audience. “Well, my good fellow, I caught your distress signal and showed up in the nick of time! As for your little issue here, I did what I needed to; I simply reversed the polarity of the neutron flow.” Taking a step forward, he gestured to the particle accelerator. “It’s a relatively simple procedure, you see. A twist here, a turn there, some fiddling with the bits and bobs and I turned your nasty fusion reaction right round. Saved your skins, I would say. You’re welcome for that.”

The scientist nodded again as his assistants began to disperse, busying themselves with the cleanup and turning away the security team. “Thank you. That reaction was… unexpected. We weren’t prepared…”

“Yes, I can see that,” the Doctor huffed. “Now, answer me this; what in bloody blazes were you doing to cause such a ruckus that I was summoned to the rescue? This is not necessarily something that happens to me every day.”

“An experiment,” the lead scientist said simply. He finally removed his mask and perched his goggles on his forehead, pulling off his gloves and disposing of them. He extended his hand to the taller man, who shook it. “Thank you again. I’m Dr. Geoffrey Hopkins. And you are…?”

“I am the Doctor.”

“What are you a doctor of, exactly?”

“Of time and space,” the Doctor responded with a slight grandiose quality just to hide a snicker. He didn’t feel like explaining himself at the moment and hoped the response would suffice.

Dr. Hopkins raised his eyebrow, but ignored it. “Right… Anyhow, my team and I were bombarding a sample of Malcarbonium with high-energy Dalekanium particles in an attempt to bond them. Previous attempts to electroplate the materials ended…explosively.”

“Ah, so this isn’t the first time you’ve almost blown yourselves up, now is it, Dr. Hopkins?” The Doctor snorted, his hands on his hips.

Hopkins looked away for a moment. “Malcarbonium is very volatile.”

“And you were bombarding a volatile substance with high-energy particles? Why are you trying to bond this with Dalekanium? I haven’t heard much of Malcarbonium myself, so it must be quite rare, all things considered!”

Hopkins nodded again. “It is. The Daleks are really interested in it.”

“The Daleks!” The Doctor interrupted. “Should’ve known that they’ve gotten their suckers into something…”

“Well, they’ve successfully bonded Malcarbonium and Dalekanium into an alloy, Dalcarbide. Problem is, we’re not sure how they did it. We’ve even gotten samples of Dalcarbide to experiment with, and a Dalek scientist, but so far, we haven’t gotten much else.” Hopkins started for the door, motioning for the Doctor to follow him. “You seem to be familiar with this. Honestly, I’m impressed with how you reversed that fusion reaction. Like nothing I’ve ever seen. How did you get here, again?”

As they stepped out of the lab, the Doctor pointed just down the hall, where the TARDIS stood, its wooden police box exterior strikingly out of place in the sterile surroundings of wherever he landed. “That. That old blue girl is my ship, the TARDIS.”

Dr. Hopkins’s eyes widened and recognition flashed across his face. “Wait… Are you… you are!” Quickly, he grabbed his comm unit from his belt and switched it on. “General? Reporting from Nucleonics. We’re all right. We had some help.” There was a static response. “General, there is someone here I think you should meet…”

The Doctor watched the scientist, finally noticing a growing crowd of armed military personnel. “Well, if this isn’t a familiar sight…”

Hopkins was almost giddy as he looked from the Doctor and to the soldiers. “Take him to see the General. I’ll be there shortly.”

One of the soldiers nodded and herded the Doctor into formation. “This way, old man.”

The Doctor let out a grunt. “Old? Pardon, but I prefer to be called stately.” The soldiers gave him no reply as he was marched promptly down the hall at gunpoint. Heaving another grouchy sigh, he stuffed his hands into his coat pockets, looking down at his still-wet ascot, ruminating over his current predicament. "I really should have changed course to Helicon Prime when I had the chance…”


	2. A Surprising Reunion

Seated beside the Doctor in the dimly-lit office, Dr. Hopkins could barely contain his boyish glee. “General Pendleton’s told me so much about you! I can’t wait for him to see you!”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow, the name bringing up a sense of familiarity, but he couldn’t quite place it at that moment. He thought back to his many travels and acquaintances within UNIT, but no one stuck out. “Tell me, is Pendleton with Earth Command…?”

Hopkins nodded quickly. “Yes! He said he knew you from back when he was a Lieutenant-colonel.”

The Doctor considered that statement and searched his memories some more, and then his eyes lit up. “Theodore Pendleton! Of course!” He looked up as the door opened and a tall craggy-faced officer entered the room. The Doctor stood, a broad smile on his face. “Teddy, ol boy! It’s certainly been an age and a half! I see you’ve moved up!”

Pendleton screwed up his face, seeing Dr. Hopkins practically vibrating in his seat with unbridled giddiness. “Welcome to Sojourn Station, Doctor.” He huffed. “And you will refer to me as General.”

“Still the professional as ever, eh Teddy?” The Doctor clapped his old friend on the shoulder as he walked around the desk to peer at his work, leaving Hopkins alone.“So, what have you been up to, now that you’re floating round in space? It’s funny to see a ground-pounder like you out here in the cosmos…”

Quickly, Pendleton switched off his screen. He looked to Hopkins, “Could you give us a moment? I’d like to catch up.”

Dr. Hopkins nodded and stood, heading for the door. “Of course, sir.” 

Waiting until the scientist left, Pendleton returned his gaze to the Doctor. “Station oversight, Doctor. We’re in the perfect position to observe Dalek activity at close range. I’m here to make sure that they don’t try anything.”

“Ah yes, the Daleks,” the Doctor murmured, finally moving round to his chair and sitting. “They’re always up to something, and every time, it’s never good. What’s their big plan this time?”

“Mining,” Pendleton said simply. There was a tinge of disgust in his voice, as if he wished for something more. “They discovered a deposit of Malcarbonium and set up shop over a decade ago. No other Dalek activity in the system, no reinforcements coming in or out.”

The Doctor nodded slowly. “Not very exciting for you, is it now, Teddy?”

Pendleton wanted to remind the Doctor about his rank, but felt it completely unnecessary at this point. He sat down in front of his computer, adjusting the screen and turning it on. “Though, there is one thing… The Daleks have constructed a massive installation on the asteroid.” He turned the screen toward the Doctor, showing an image of a large device built firmly into the rocky surface. “A mass driver. Judging by the size and the information we’ve obtained from a captured Dalek scientist, this device is capable of accelerating the asteroid, essentially serving as an engine. Interrogation revealed that it would be used to transport the entire asteroid itself to a nearby Dalek outpost.”

“I’m surprised that Dalek told you that. They’re not ones to crack under pressure. I’ve unfortunately witnessed a few… interrogations. They get quite messy and the Dalek rarely, if ever, speaks. How did you get this one to talk? I’d imagine it involved removing a few tentacles. That can get them a bit chatty…”

Pendleton nodded, turning the screen away from The Doctor. “It was fairly easy. We’ve conducted these interrogations over the course of a few years. The information gleaned from it remains constant.”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “Years? Do you still have this Dalek penned up somewhere?”

“Of course. We weren’t about to let this valuable source of intel go, now were we?”

The Doctor grimaced, imagining the types of “enhanced interrogation techniques” the soldiers were using on their Dalek prisoner. While the Daleks are evil in their own right and tend to deserve what karma comes their way, the thought of scraping the creature out of its metal shell like an oyster and then torturing it in new and creative ways over the course of several years simply to make it talk still made his hearts feel cold. Heaving a sigh, he knew that this type of behavior wasn’t unusual for Pendleton—the man was a grizzled veteran of Dalek wars and held a very firm disdain for them. Dropping his gaze to his lap, the Doctor let out a silent sigh and decided to change the subject. “Your scientist, Dr. Hopkins, had mentioned that the Daleks created a new alloy, Dalcarbide. How did you get this information? From your prisoner?”

“Yes and no,” Pendleton stood and walked around his desk. “We have samples of the material and Malcarbonium specimens. Those weren’t found at the mass driver installation where we captured the scientist. However, the Dalek has a Dalcarbide casing and was very useful in identifying and analyzing the material.”

Now the Doctor was definitely curious. “Could I meet this Dalek, perhaps?”

Pendleton nodded. “Of course. Come with me.” He started for the door.

The Doctor stood and followed, both interested and a bit confused as to why they would keep a Dalek prisoner this long, or even why he was readily allowed to see it. Captured Daleks rarely lasted very long unless they were stripped down to the barest life-support components and kept under heavy security. At that point, they wouldn’t be very helpful even if they decided to go along with their captor’s wishes. The way Pendleton talked, it almost sounded to the Doctor as if the Dalek were somehow coerced into cooperating with its captors and given even a modicum of free will. But that, the Doctor thought, would be silly. No Dalek would play their role for that long. One Dalek could easily exterminate the entire station personnel; all it would need was a single moment where there was a complete lapse in judgment. Just for the right person to look the other way at the right time, and the Dalek would swiftly take umbrage. Thus, to the Doctor, keeping a Dalek for very long is generally seen as very unwise.

As he emerged from his musings, the Doctor noted that he and Pendleton were entering a different laboratory wing than the one in which he had first materialized. Pendleton stopped at a door and flashed his key card, gaining entry and holding the door for the Doctor to enter. As he entered, he saw a similarly-sized laboratory, this one without the massive particle accelerator that he had repaired earlier. This lab was furnished with tables, trolleys, and a large dais surrounded by hanging robotic arms and flanked with imaging equipment. A bio-lab, the Doctor surmised.

An older woman emerged from around a corner. She was dressed in blue scrubs and had straw-colored wavy hair poking out from under her cap. Around her neck was a hanging mask and on her forehead were similar goggles to what the Doctor saw Hopkins wearing. The woman pulled off her gloves and tossed them into a trash bin, approaching Pendleton and the Doctor. “I wasn’t expecting visitors, General.” She looked to the Doctor. “Who’s the fop?”

“Excuse me?” The Doctor huffed in offense. “I’ll have you know that where I’m from, this is considered the height of style!”

Pendleton snorted in bemusement. “Dr. Delaney, I’d like you to meet an old colleague of mine.” He gestured from the Doctor to the woman. “This is Dr. Elizabeth Delaney. She is our top neuroscientist and current head of Project Indigo.”

Delaney extended her hand and the Doctor shook it. “Pleasure. And yourself?”

The Doctor smiled, dreading the reply he’ll get once he said his name. Thankfully, Pendleton stepped in to complete the introduction and move swiftly passed it. “This is the Doctor. He’s a friend of mine from my Earth Command days.”

The Doctor nodded. “Teddy and I go way back.” He tucked his hands into his pockets and changed the subject. “I was told that you have a Dalek prisoner caged up somewhere…?”

“That’s what you think Indigo is?” Delaney hissed, stepping up to Pendleton. “It’s so much more than that, General, and you’ve seen my results speak for themselves! My Dalek is thoroughly reprogrammed and if you would have the decency to bring me more of them, I can reprogram them as well!” She snorted. “A prisoner! Really!”

The Doctor stared at the interaction, puzzled. “Wait, you’ve reprogrammed a Dalek? For what?”

“War, Doctor,” Pendleton said simply. “With their firepower on our side, we can turn the tide in our favor.”

“That’s why I need more Daleks!” Delaney snapped. “Organize a mission and bring me some more drones!”

“I’ve told you that we can’t do that!” Pendleton finally raised his voice. “Our activity on DAL-13 isn’t going unnoticed. The Draconians told us to stay away. If we keep dropping in, taking a bunch of Daleks, and leaving, then they’re gonna retaliate and the Draconians will fry both our asses!” He folded his arms. “You have one Dalek. Use it.”

Delaney finally backed down, pouting, but unwilling to let the matter go completely. “Once we get clearance, I will see to it that you send down a detachment to fetch me more Dalek subjects.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. That’s my final word on this matter,” Pendleton gave a stern nod, the discussion tabled. “If you’re so proud of your results, why don’t you show the Doctor? I’m sure he’ll be quite interested in seeing what you’ve done.”

“Aw, Teddy, you’ve read me like an open book,” the Doctor smiled at him, putting his arm around his friend’s shoulders, which Pendleton immediately shrugged off.

Delaney’s countenance shifted into pride as she stood taller. “Of course, of course!” She dug about in her pocket and pulled out a small remote control. Turning to face the corner from where she came, she aimed the control and pressed a button, holding it.

Immediately, the Doctor heard a very distinct mechanical whine. His smile faded as he watched the corner of the lab. After a moment, he saw the familiar shape of a Dalek casing as it rounded the corner. The closer it came, the more details he could see; the brassy color, the rounded rugged bumper, larger luminosity dischargers than he was accustomed to, and interestingly enough, what appeared to be an orange high-visibility vest strapped around its shoulder sections. The bright blue lens of the eyestalk fixated on him as it moved closer, the motive engine whine getting louder and louder.

Delaney had a self-satisfied smirk plastered across her face as the Dalek rolled up to them and stopped. Tucking the control into her pocket, she looked to the Doctor. “This is Amy. She is Project Indigo’s first fully-reconditioned Dalek.”

The Doctor felt himself step backwards. The step wasn’t from fright, he reasoned, but rather to give the Dalek a wide berth and him time to duck out of the way in case this Dalek’s programming should slip. For once, he found himself at a loss for words as the Dalek studied him. Pendleton was studying his reaction as well, though with some amusement as he was clearly far more comfortable around it.

“Say ‘hello,’ Amy,” Delaney instructed.

“Greetings,” Amy answered in that all-too-familiar high-pitched staccato monotone.

Rather than standing there agape at it, the Doctor finally spoke, returning the greeting. “Hello there, Amy. I am the Doctor.”

“Doc-tor?”

The Doctor winced, regretting his introductory script right at that moment. Thankfully for him, the Dalek did not seem to recognize him. “Yes, Amy, that’s my name. Doctor.”

“Doc-tor,” Amy repeated and then looked to Delaney for instructions.

Delaney smiled, her arms folded in triumph. She looked at the Doctor. “She is fully reprogrammed and her casing’s weapons platform is inoperable.” She took a pen from her pocket and tapped the top of Amy’s dome. “Her entire cortex vault has been rewired to remove her completely from the Dalek Command Net. She cannot send nor receive information through it.” 

The Doctor nodded. “Very impressive, I admit, but how did you reprogram it? Just removing a Dalek from its hive mind isn’t enough. They’re very dangerous creatures, with or without the guidance from their fellows.”

Pendleton snorted loudly. “Even I could have told you that one, Doctor. Having fried Dalek units tons of times, I certainly wouldn’t allow one on my station, regardless of how well-behaved it is. There’s more to this one than just a rewiring.”

“Oh, so much more! This is the interesting part and something I am particularly proud of discovering,” Delaney’s smile tightened as her eyes became hooded. “You see, before we captured her, Amy was already part of a Dalek experiment. They implanted deposits of Malcarbonium in her brain, within the prefrontal cortex and amygdalae,” she again tapped the Dalek’s dome with her pen, “which in turn causes a very interesting biochemical reaction. Daleks are far stronger and faster, and able to learn and adapt far quicker.”

“Which made capturing this one a massive pain in the ass,” Pendleton muttered. “We lost some good men for your pet project.” His gaze was cold as he shoved his hands grumpily into his pockets.

The Doctor flicked his gaze between the two, wanting to offer some words to his colleague. Dalek wars were brutal as even if Earth Command is victorious, the Daleks caused so much collateral damage that any victory rang hollow. Wanting to prevent Pendleton’s thoughts from sinking too deeply into his own past, the Doctor changed the subject slightly. “What is so special about Malcarbonium? It sounds to me that while it benefits the Daleks, it’s rather detrimental to your cause. So, why so proud of this? I feel there’s something you sniffed out that the Daleks did not…?”

“But of course!” Delaney nodded proudly. “It made reconditioning much, much easier. You see, with the intracranial Malcarbonium, Daleks are far more susceptible to mind-altering procedures. Also, it caused a very interesting side-effect. Upon removal from the Command Net, Amy was prone to imprinting. She imprinted on one of our robotics staff, and as her Minder, he’s been involved in her training since.”

Pendleton, still stewing within his memories and having heard enough of Delaney’s boasting, started for the door. “I have work to do. You can hang around if you wish, Doctor, but stay out of the way. We’re not with Earth Command out here.”

The Doctor nodded and gave a saluting wave to Pendleton as he left. “See you round, Teddy!”

Delaney watched the goings-on and cleared her throat. “Amy, why don’t you show the Doctor around? Show him what a good girl you are. Take him to meet your Minder.”

“I obey,” Amy responded with a very familiar phrase. She trundled her casing around the Doctor, her eyestalk fixed on him. “Follow me, Doc-tor.”

The Doctor gave a shrug and followed the Dalek, thoroughly curious now as to the processes behind the reconditioning. Only as he met Amy’s pace, did he finally see the patch emblazoned on her vest. “Service Dalek- Do Not Disturb.” He chuckled to himself, still somewhat unsure of the Dalek’s intentions, but was willing to at the very least follow along for the time being. “So, Amy, you’re a service Dalek, eh? How very interesting. What services do you provide?”

Amy did not respond right away, busying herself with opening the lab door; she did not have a key card, so she had to manually key in her access by covering the panel with her manipulator sucker. The door hissed open and she waited for the Doctor to go through before she followed. “I am a scientist. I assist in the lab.” Overtaking his pace, Amy led the way down the corridor, every now and again glancing back to make sure the Doctor still followed. “My Minder says I am a good girl. Am I a good girl?”

The Doctor was momentarily dumbfounded by the question, but he recovered quick enough. “From what I’ve seen, yes. You are a good girl, Amy.”

“Thank you,” Amy swiveled her dome and continued down the corridor.

The Doctor shrugged, mostly to himself. He followed the Dalek, wondering what he had gotten himself into this time. Stopping a catastrophe in the deepest regions of Draconian Space, only to meet up with an old friend years into the man’s timeline, and deposited into the middle of a strange project utilizing captives from a Dalek mining outpost. And now he’s following a reprogrammed Dalek around a space station. This is what he got, he surmised, for drink-driving the TARDIS aimlessly through the Time Vortex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy do I love me some technobabble.
> 
> Much like with the first chapter, this chapter ended up being rewritten. Thankfully, I had written several scenes as vignettes and was able to work one in.


	3. Rumination of War

  
His head bowed as he walked back to his office, Theodore Pendleton stewed in his thoughts. The Doctor had returned, after all these years. Regardless of the Time Lord’s face or wardrobe, Pendleton could always tell. There was a very distinct quality to his eyes, something the General could not quite place, but could always see. Several lifetimes of experience, wisdom, and fear. The fearful undercurrent was the main quality that stuck out to Pendleton, but it wasn’t like the fear he had seen in the greener faces of soldiers in the midst of their first Dalek skirmish. The fear that Pendleton saw in the Doctor’s eyes was more of a deep and profound respect born from those lifetimes of facing his greatest enemies over and over again. It made him wonder if the Doctor’s longevity was much less a gift and more of a curse devised by a universe that was looking for a new cosmic plaything.

Whatever the Time Lord’s ultimate fate, Pendleton wasn’t concerned. His concern laid in what circumstances were contrived to bring them together once again. Years ago, before he even was a Lieutenant-general, Pendleton was told that the Doctor scarcely had control on where he went and who he met, but rather that the TARDIS “goes where she’s needed.” That thought struck him again now, and he began to wonder if there was something more to the Doctor’s latest visit.

Shaking his head slowly and flashing his key card, Pendleton entered his office and walked to his desk, slumping in his chair. He felt very tired, as if the lifetimes of his friend had worn off onto him. Sighing, he tilted his head back and closed his eyes, listening to the low-level thrum of the space station and the constant-but-subtle hiss of recirculated air through the vents above him. It had been a long time since he had been on solid ground; he could tell the difference between natural planetary gravity and the slight heaviness from the station’s gimbaled centrifuge. It was certainly more refined than the other spin-grav transport ships he’d been on—Sojourn Station was much bigger—but the difference was still there.

Pendleton’s musings were interrupted by his door chime and he lifted his head. “Enter.”

The door opened and a tall uniformed Draconian entered, ducking slightly to prevent his high forehead from hitting the top of the door jamb. Straightening as the door closed, he clicked his heels and gave a bow. “General, we need to discuss activity on DAL-13. High Command has arranged a conference with you.”

Pendleton sat up in his chair and indicated the empty seat in front of his desk with a wave of his hand. “Been a while since we’ve chatted, Axolatus.” That was a lie; he had spoken with the Draconian Commodore earlier in the week concerning DAL-13. “What’s High Command want now?”

The look on Axolatus’s scaly face betrayed his offense at Pendleton’s casual disregard for Draconian formality. “It’s concerning the Dalek captive, and the DAL-13 installation.” 

Pendleton sighed in annoyance. High Command had been on him almost non-stop since their first mission to DAL-13; the Draconians were not thrilled with the human interference. Up until that point, they had merely been observing the Dalek operations on the asteroid. Activity, while constant, remained fairly slow and the Daleks kept mostly to themselves, with only a few security details around the various installations. Since the Earth Command mission, the details had gotten more frequent, with drones on duty at all times, particularly around their mass driver, which—up until Dalek Amy’s capture—had remained undefended. The Daleks knew that they had overstayed their welcome, Pendleton was sure of it. 

Letting out another irritated groan, Pendleton eased himself straight in his chair. “When will they call?”

“High Command wants a conference right now,” Axolatus nodded curtly, finally taking a seat.

Terrific, Pendleton rued to himself. He hit a button on his computer and keyed in his access. Sitting up and hoping to look like he gave a damn, Pendleton forced a professional expression to his face as the Draconian nobleman’s face appeared on his screen. He gave a thin smile. “Lord Kamphetht! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Tell Earth Command that you’re pulling out. We’ll deal with the Daleks ourselves,” Kamphetht was clearly not having any of Pendleton’s stale formalities.

“Oh, come now,” Pendleton shook his head, having heard a variation of this demand multiple times before, “you surely aren’t serious. There’s still so much work to be done! Wouldn’t you rather we stay and assist you in capturing the asteroid? It’ll be far more valuable to you intact than it would be if you simply blow it up.” His thin smile tightened, as he leaned closer to the screen. “Besides, our scientists believe that should we capture it, we may be able to alter the mass driver for offensive use…”

Kamphetht barely gave that statement any thought. “We are not about to risk a Dalek incursion in our sector simply because you have a hunch! Pull out and we’ll handle it!”

Pendleton simply laughed, leaning back in his chair. He had dealt with Kamphetht many times and while the Draconian commanded a formidable appearance, Pendleton knew that his scaly spine had all the structural integrity of a stale saltine. He just needed to continue until Kamphetht backed down. “Now, now, now… You didn’t even consider the possibilities. Think of it; Dalek weaponry on our side. They wouldn’t see the shots coming!”

There was a moment of silence as Kamphetht gave the general’s words some consideration. “Are you able to operate the machinery?”

“Well, no, not yet, but—”

“Then why waste the time? We’ll destroy the asteroid before the Daleks have a chance to send for reinforcements and you get yourselves and Sojourn out of our sector!”

Again, Pendleton shook his head. He almost had him. Falling silent for a moment, he was suddenly reminded of the Doctor and the Time Lord’s prior dealings with the Draconians. Deciding to shift gears in the discussion, Pendleton leaned closer to the monitor, his voice dropping. “I don’t suppose that you’re aware of our newest visitor? Just dropped by today, in fact.”

Kamphetht raised a scaled eyebrow. “No. That is not my concern.”

“Perhaps it will be if I told you that the Doctor is on my station.”

Another stretch of silence. “The Doctor?” Ducking out of frame for a moment, Kamphetht conferred with someone offscreen. When he returned, it was obvious that his mood had softened. “Very well, then. Have you spoken to the Doctor regarding the Daleks?”

“Not entirely,” Pendleton shook his head. “However, I feel that he may be quite useful. If you grant my extension and authority to do so, I’d like to organize a mission to capture the asteroid. The Daleks have not sent any ships to this sector and as far as I know, they don’t have a breeding facility. The Daleks that first arrived are still the only ones there. With the Doctor’s help and with intel from our captive, we may be able to establish a foothold on the asteroid. My goal would be to capture the mass driver. I’ll let our engineering crew handle the logistics of operating it; we just need to capture it.”

Kamphetht nodded, listening. “If you think you can refit it into a weapon, and get your prisoner to operate it, I’d be impressed. Our research has shown that it’s merely a propulsion system. Though, if in our control, it would prove to be a very powerful weapon against the Daleks.”

“Exactly!” Pendleton’s excitement grew as he finally reached the Draconian. “Just think about that kind of firepower! And with the Doctor’s help, it shouldn’t be too big of a mess. We’ll have that base captured before the Daleks can get out a signal.” He smiled, leaning back. “So, have I got your word?”

Kamphetht was quiet for a moment as his broad shoulders slumped. “Yes, General. You have my word. You may remain in the Hasephlux system and complete your objective. However,” he leaned forward, his gaze hardening, “do anything to incite Dalek retaliation and bring their war to our sector, and you and your crew will be fired out of this sector in a life pod. Is that understood, General?”

Pendleton nodded. “Yes, of course, Lord Kamphetht.” He gave a slight courtesy bow. “Pleasure seeing you again.”

Kamphetht gave a snort and closed the connection.

Across the desk, Commodore Axolatus remained seated, listening in. “I was not aware that the Doctor had arrived.”

Pendleton chuckled, busying himself with closing his conferencing program and accessing his files. “He’s quite the celebrity to you, isn’t he?”

Axolatus nodded. “He cured the Great Space Plague centuries ago. His painting still hangs in the Imperial Palace. I’ve seen it when I was a child.”

“He is a good man,” Pendleton nodded, “and a good friend.”

“Do you think he’ll actually help you in capturing the DAL-13 mass driver?”

Pendleton shrugged. “Hard to say, Commodore. The Doctor has helped us many, many times, but he’s also a man of his own convictions. If he feels that something isn’t right, then he won’t go along with it. However,” he looked up at Axolatus, “he hates the Daleks as much as we do. If he knows that getting that mass driver will help us kick the Daleks’ tin asses back to Skaro, then he’ll jump at the chance.”

“I shall arrange a conference with him, sir. At your earliest convenience, of course.”

“Thank you, Commodore,” Pendleton returned his gaze to his work. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Draconian stand, bow, and then leave. Finally settling back in his chair, Pendleton stopped randomly shuffling through files and tabs—it was just to appear busy. At last, he had express permission to capture that Dalek installation! Ever since learning about what it was and what it was capable of doing, Pendleton had wanted to send another mission to the mass driver. It was a powerful device and unbelievably massive, easily spanning the length of a small Earth airport! To think of the amount of power it would have due to size alone! Having that Dalek weaponry in his hands would surely turn the tables. Pendleton had long since considered the offensive capabilities, and to finally have it within his grasp certainly made up for the headaches High Command caused! He gave a smile meant only for himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know you're a huge nerd when you spend an hour looking up artificial gravity solutions for two throwaway lines.
> 
> I honestly have so much supplementary material written up for this that I really should gather it all together and post it separately.


	4. A Moment of Downtime

The Doctor leaned against the wall just outside the closed door of the very laboratory he had saved earlier. Not too far down the hall was his TARDIS, parked and waiting. The corridor was much calmer now, without the blaring alarm klaxons and frantic human personnel running for their lives. It even smelled calmer—the acrid stench of heated electronic components had long since been scrubbed clean from the recycled air. 

Beside him, sitting patiently was the reprogrammed Dalek, Amy. Her eyestalk was fixated on the TARDIS; it was certainly a different sight, but the Doctor wasn’t sure if the Dalek recognized it. From what he had seen up to this point, Amy had no prior records of either herself or her fellow Daleks ever meeting him, regardless of his incarnation. Though, he reasoned, it may be due to her removal from the Dalek Command Net—she no longer had that database at the ready. She could only draw upon her own organic memories and add to her personal database at this point. Depending upon when she was created and whether or not the reconditioning process impacted her memory, then her only knowledge of the Doctor would have come from archival Command Net data.

Even when removed from the hive hierarchy, the Doctor told himself, a lone Dalek can still prove to be a very dangerous and cunning foe. Separation from the continual collective feedback didn’t even slow them down. Amy, however, lacked that undercurrent of deception. Daleks had been known to sometimes play a subservient role to humans, but only as a means to a much larger end, and it often showed as subtle sarcastic nuances in their electronic voices. From what the Doctor could tell, though, Amy’s voice did not have that particular trait. For all intents and purposes, she seemed to be entirely reprogrammed.

The Doctor let out a breath, looking at the door again. He had been waiting for the better part of an hour and was growing increasingly impatient. “Why don’t you just open the door and go inside?”

Amy swiveled her dome to face the Doctor. “I am not permitted inside the synchrotron laboratory. It is beyond my operating parameters.”

“Really? Even if your Minder is in there?”

“I am to wait outside until he exits, or I am given orders to return to the neuro lab.”

The Doctor nodded slowly. He watched Amy for a moment. “You’re very patient, Amy. I admire that.”

“Thank you,” Amy’s eyestalk dipped a bit and she looked away. She wasn’t quite as fidgety as other Daleks the Doctor had interacted with, and he had to admit that she was very polite. 

By some quirk of a leftover habit, the Doctor reached out and gave the Dalek a pat on the shoulder section. Finally, the lab door hissed open, a smaller, younger fresh-faced gentleman stepping out, idly fiddling with a large controller he was holding. The Doctor straightened to his full height and stepped round Amy. “Virgil Gerhart, I presume!”

Virgil looked up with a start. “Uh, yes! Yes!” He looked to Amy, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You didn’t tell me you brought someone.”

“I apologize. Dr. Delaney did not update my log,” Amy lowered her eyestalk.

“It’s okay, Amy. That’s not your fault,” Virgil finally finished messing with his control unit and looked at the Doctor. “Yes, I’m Virgil. I’m Amy’s Minder.” He extended his hand.

The Doctor promptly shook it. “You may call me the Doctor. I suppose Dr. Hopkins had mentioned me? I saved your very atoms quite recently from a messy disassembly.”

Virgil nodded slowly, recognition dawning on him. “That was you? Why, thank you, sir! Yes, I was just in there running diagnostics. The particle accelerator seems to be in working order. Don’t know what happened. I wasn’t there. Just heard the alarms, we did. I left Amy with Dr. Delaney right after.” He finally slowed his speech and looked at the Dalek. “Were you good for Dr. Delaney?”

“Yes. I performed my duties as expected,” Amy replied.

Virgil smiled at her. “Good girl, Amy. Let’s go out to rec, okay? I need a break. Putting you on ‘patrol’ mode.” He flipped a switch on his control unit and gave Amy’s casing a pat. “Come along with us, Doctor. I can show you some of Amy’s specs.”

The Doctor shrugged. “Well, I haven’t much else to do at the moment.” He tucked his hands into his pockets and followed Virgil and Amy down the hall. “Amy told me that the lab is ‘out of her operating parameters’ and she isn’t allowed inside. She’s very patient, I must say. We waited for quite some time.”

Virgil nodded. “Amy physically can’t enter the synchrotron lab, or anywhere outside of her operating range. Her motive systems lock up at boundaries.” He pointed to the floor. “When not following me, she’s locked to those lines.”

The Doctor glanced down, seeing colored paths along the floor. “So, she was on that mode when she brought me to see you?”

“Yes,” Virgil nodded again. “Amy has limited mobility range. It’s one of her failsafes.” He indicated the remote control. “I have full control of her casing and can override her systems at any time. Her visual feed is also linked to my screen. Helps to keep her logs accurate.”

Nodding, the Doctor lengthened his stride to match pace with Virgil and Amy, sidling up to Amy’s right side so that the Dalek was between them. “You trust her reprogramming to make her obedient, and yet you take many, many precautions.” He nodded in appreciation. “Very wise, very wise. Too many times have I seen a few foolish humans take a Dalek’s immediate obedience at face value. Daleks are master manipulators. They’ll play their role very well, up until they find that brief moment of weakness. And when that happens—” he clapped “—extermination.”

Virgil barely looked up from his walk, nodding. “Doesn’t matter how she behaves. She’s still a Dalek.”

Amy remained silent for the duration of the discussion, only glancing about as the whine of her motive engines filled the hall. The Doctor watched her, wondering if she were thinking about their words. Could a Dalek be offended by the frank discussion of their very nature? To hopefully appease whatever thoughts were lurking in her positronic brain, the Doctor put his hand on the back portion of her casing. “You’re a very special Dalek, aren’t you, Amy? Possibly one of the more polite of your fellows. Don’t concern yourself too much with what we’re talking about.”

Amy didn’t respond. She swerved off her path and followed Virgil into the recreation area. Virgil found a bench and deposited his belongings on it. Flipping a switch, he put the controller in his bag. “Amy, you got free roam.”

“Thank you,” Amy replied and began to move about the small gymnasium. 

Leaving the Dalek to her wanderings, Virgil grabbed a basketball off the rack. Giving the ball a brief dribble, he turned and passed it to the Doctor, who caught it after a couple bounces, and immediately shot a basket, his tall stature certainly helping his aim. “Nice shot! You didn’t strike me as someone who plays many sports.”

The Doctor laughed, retrieving the ball, bouncing it, and shooting another basket. “Oh, I enjoy some athletics every now and again. It’s good to keep up one’s exercise.” He bounced the ball to Virgil. “So, Virgil, tell me about yourself. What brings a young buck like you all the way out here to a space station? You look like you’re barely out of classes!”

Virgil’s face reddened as he shot—and missed—a basket. “My graduate program offered Sojourn Station as a study opportunity. Didn’t have much else right after school, really. Folks wanted me out, said the stars would give me a chance to build character.” He grimaced. “I don’t much like space travel. Makes my stomach feel funny.”

Laughing again, the Doctor grabbed the ball and bounced it to Virgil for another chance at making a basket. “Oh, you get used to it. Helps if you got a good ship, too.” He gave a nod. “Your folks are right about one thing; it will build character. Space is not very forgiving, and you often learn many lessons the hard way.”

“I’ll bet,” Virgil nodded, trying another shot and just barely making it, the ball rolling round the rim before finally tipping in. “There! Much better throw than last time.” He jogged after the ball and passed it to the Doctor.

Catching it, the Doctor looked to Amy, who had circled around to their court. When she got close enough, he bounced the ball to her. “Your turn, Amy!”

The Dalek caught it in one bounce, the ball solidly affixed to her manipulator sucker. After a moment of orienting herself, she raised her arm and calculated her aim. With a quick push, Amy launched the ball off her sucker, sinking a basket from the three-point line, the ball swishing through the net with ease.

The Doctor’s smile grew wide and he clapped his hands together. “Good girl, Amy! Good girl!” He retraced the ball’s arch with his eyes, running his fingers through his snow-white curly hair. “My goodness, that was the most perfect shot! Absolutely splendid!”

Lowering her manipulator arm, Amy looked to the Doctor. “Thank you, Doc-tor.” 

The Doctor’s smile remained as he walked up to her and gave her an affectionate pat on her casing. “You’re quite welcome, Amy. I’m very impressed.”

Virgil was also smiling, and he bounced the ball after retrieving it. “Glad I got a live feed from her lens! Definitely keeping that recording. I’m sure Dr. Delaney would like to see that shot!” He attempted a closer shot, the basketball bouncing off the back board and right into his hands. “Better than I am, that’s for sure.”

The Doctor laughed, walking to Virgil, with Amy following him. “It just takes some practice.” He took the ball and shot a basket. “I’ve had lifetimes of practice myself.”

Virgil snorted, retrieving the ball and dribbling it a few times before attempting his shots. “I’ll need a few lifetimes, then.”

Chuckling, the Doctor stepped back to observe. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced movement by the door. Looking over his shoulder, he saw a tall Draconian officer step into the recreation area. “Hm. It appears that we have some company.”

Virgil looked up as the Draconian strode over to the Doctor. “Commodore Axolatus! Is something wrong?”

Axolatus ignored the young man, speaking only to the Doctor. “General Pendleton and High Command request an immediate audience with you. Come with me, Doctor.”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow, looking to Virgil and Amy. “I suppose our game’s cut a bit short. Shame, as I’d love to play a round of 'Horse' with a Dalek. But, as they say, duty calls.” He gave a shrug, a casual smirk, and started for the door.

Virgil quickly grabbed his bag and control, flicking a switch and putting Amy’s motive systems on “patrol” once more, the Dalek immediately trundling over to him. He started to follow, but Axolatus stood in front of him, holding up his hand. “Not you. Return the Dalek to the lab and go to your work station. This meeting does not concern you.”

Virgil blinked, swallowing. “Yes sir. Right away.” He threw his glance over his shoulder. “Come along, Amy.”

Amy followed obediently, her eyestalk focused on the Doctor. “Will we meet again, Doc-tor?”

The Doctor nodded to her. “We will. See you round, Amy. You too, Virgil.” Turning, he followed Axolatus out of the gym and down the corridor. He blew a puff of air between his pursed lips. With Draconian High Command involved, he knew that this wasn’t going to be a light chat. General Pendleton wants something, though the Doctor was unsure of what. Needless to say, he knew that the man wasn’t a straight shooter. Throughout the time he had known him, Pendleton always seemed to have an underlying ulterior motive for getting the Doctor involved in his plans. The Doctor slipped his hands into his pockets. He could only imagine what Pendleton had planned now. Whatever it was, whatever the general told him, the Doctor knew that it wouldn’t be the full story. There was always a card or two up the sleeve of General Theodore Pendleton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some calmer moments were in order. Right now, I'm writing chapters as they come to me. I have an outline for my story, but it's a detailed plot synopsis and doesn't break things down by chapter. Updates between chapters are probably going to be a bit slower unless I either bang out a few pages in a single night, or have a vignette I can work in.
> 
> Easing up on the technobabble a bit.


	5. Dalek Maintenance

“We were trying a spin exchange optical pumping method when the Doctor arrived,” Dr. Hopkins was lounging in an office chair, one leg crossed over the other. He was sitting in the neuro lab and filling in however he could as an on-call assistant, due to the transfer of the station’s nonessential staff at the end of the last solar cycle. “My assumption was that perhaps the Dalcarbide was created with introduction of a hyperpolarized inert gas. And after the Doctor got here and I found out who he is, I thought, maybe he might have some insight in Dalekanium. But before that, I thought I’d attempt the SEOP and, so I fired up the synchrotron, popped in a sample of Malcarbonium and, well,” he shrugged, “it seemed the Malcarbonium had other ideas.”

Just across the lab from him, Dr. Delaney was working on prepping an instrument trolley. She only murmured an acknowledgement as she busied herself with filling a syringe. “And it about blew up the whole station. Good thing this ‘Doctor’ came by out of the blue and saved our butts, hm?”

“That’s the thing, though!” Hopkins’s voice ticked up in excitement. “The General told me about this guy. The Doctor worked for UNIT, you know? He’s been popping in and out of the General’s life for years! And now he’s here, just in time!” He gestured frantically, flustered and sputtering. “Don’t you see? I—I mean, like, we’ve known about him and all, and—and really, lots of what we know about the Daleks come from this guy! Maybe, just maybe, he might be the breakthrough we need! Find out how the Daleks created Dalcarbide, how they even knew about using Malcarbonium in the first place. We’re obviously not getting any answers with Amy.”

Delaney nodded, clearly not feeding into her colleague’s excitement. “Amy was just a test subject. She even said she wasn’t involved in Dalcarbide creation, only that her casing is made from it. Interrogation revealed nothing else, and her former squadmates corroborated. Of course we’re not getting answers from her; she was barely above those drones in authority. We’re lucky to get a Dalek scientist at all.” Finally turning to face Hopkins, Delaney put her fist against her hip. “Why are you so excited anyway? I highly doubt the General will give you any more big projects after almost toasting the whole station.”

“Don’t start with me, Elizabeth,” Hopkins’s tone immediately changed. “You know the Malcarbonium instability pretty well yourself. You’ve seen what happened to the Dalek drones. I’m surprised there was anything left to freeze!”

Delaney didn’t answer him. She regarded him for a moment and then resumed her task. Behind her, the door opened, Amy entering the laboratory. She was alone, following her path preset. Delaney didn’t look up, hearing the distinct whine of the Dalek’s motive systems. “Geoffrey,” she said Hopkins’s name as if she were about to admonish a child, “if you’re going to be in here, then put yourself to good use. Get her on the dais, take off her vest, and scrub in.”

Hopkins grumbled, easing himself out of his chair. He didn’t appreciate the sour tone of his colleague, but he was more than accustomed to it at this point in his career. He approached Amy and gave her a pat on the casing. “Hey there, Amy. In here for your shots, eh?”

“Affirmative,” came Amy’s staccato reply.

“Good girl, Amy,” Hopkins nodded, giving her another pat and unsnapping the clips on her vest and removing it from her casing’s shoulder section. Draping it over his forearm, he ushered the Dalek to the lab’s central dais. From there, Amy swiveled her casing round to face Hopkins and reversed up the short ramp and onto the platform. Hopkins nodded to her again and tapped a foot pedal with his shoe, engaging the docking clamps and locking Amy’s casing in place. “Good girl. Open up your casing for us, please.”

Amy responded quickly. “I obey.”

Turning away from Amy to give her at least some semblance of privacy, Hopkins walked over to Delaney, tossing the vest on the counter and going to wash his hands and glove up. Beside him, Delaney was finishing her preparations, placing a clean drape over the exam table and adjusting the position of the stereotactic cranial frame. As the two scientists worked, a series of clicks sounded from inside Amy’s casing, then a short electronic whine, and then a louder clunk as the locks disengaged. With a hissing escape of pressurized air, the sections of Amy’s casing separated, moving aside on interior hinges and slides. There, glistening under the harsh laboratory lights and nestled within the slime-coated wires and tubes of the main environment chamber was a pale, shriveled octopoid creature, its thick, ropy tentacles and distended brain sac moving weakly in its mechanical cradle.

With the reveal of the slimy Dalek mutant came a thick waft of stale air and a distinct fishy odor mingled with a faint sting of harsh antiseptic. Delaney looped her mask over her face and adjusted her goggles. She noted Hopkins doing the same, but with more urgency; the smell must have hit him. “Secure her casing, would you?”

Hopkins gave a nod and approached the open Dalek casing. Reaching above him, he moved the robotic arms into place along the parted weapons platform, engaging the claws and holding Amy’s manipulator arm and gunstick firm. He watched the creature shrink back slightly, the single functioning eye opening a sliver as it adjusted to the light. It was rare that Hopkins saw Amy’s actual form; the Dalek worked more closely with Delaney and Virgil. Stepping closer, he leaned in for a better look. Amy’s eye opened more, revealing a pale hazel iris and glazed pupil—it was unclear if she could actually see with it. The eye swiveled in its socket, finally focusing on Hopkins and fixing him in a bleary stare.

Carefully, Hopkins reached toward the open casing. “Hi, girl. Can you see me?”

“Don’t touch her,” Delaney’s voice startled the man into stepping backward.

“Why not? You handle her all the time. She’s clearly docile,” Hopkins was confused by the order as while he had known about the aggressive behavior of the other drones, Amy didn’t behave that way. She was accustomed to frequent handling as part of her reprogramming.

“Cross-contamination,” Delaney said simply. “Change your gloves and prepare a 26-gauge cannula.” Stepping in front of the raised platform, the Dalek’s exposed environment chamber at level with Delaney’s chest, she pulled an overhead light closer to the casing and reached inside, carefully disconnecting the various tubes and wires connecting the creature to the life-support systems. “I’ll also need a five-milliliter saline flush.”

Hopkins hurried to the instrument trolley and grabbed the wrapped single-use pre-filled syringe. Pausing as he unwrapped the syringe, he watched Delaney lift Amy out of her casing, her main body held in one hand and her brain sac cradled in the other. Her slimy tentacles immediately wrapped around Delaney’s arms, but even Hopkins could see that the reaction was just the Dalek trying to avoid being accidentally dropped.

Stepping backward, Delaney carried Amy over to the exam table and carefully placed the mutant onto the drapes. Disconnected from her casing, all Amy could do was utter wet squeaks, her entire body pulsating with the effort. Her tentacles flopped against the table and her bloodshot eye flicked from Delaney, to the surrounding cranial frame, and back. She gurgled something that could have been a response and whipped a tentacle at the frame before Delaney grabbed it in one gloved hand. With her other, the neuroscientist quickly inserted an intravenous line and wrapped it in place. In motions that she had done hundreds of times, Delaney flushed the line, and slowly administered a sedative. Within a few moments, Amy’s wriggling slowed, her squeaks quieted, and her single eye closed.

Delaney barely looked up from her task, carefully positioning the Dalek’s cranial sac within the frame and holding it in place with blunt pins. “Geoffrey, give Amy some extra air. It’s harder for her to breathe under sedation. I don’t need her lungs collapsing again.”

Hopkins quickly obeyed, hauling over a tank and opening the valve. He attached a mask to the hose and held it over Amy’s vestigial face as Delaney moved round to prepare the intracranial injection. “This isn’t really my field, you know…”

“Well, Logan took the last carrier out to Red Rocket Rising and we’re not getting new staff for another cycle, so congratulations, Geoff. You got promoted.” Delaney barely afforded him an irritated glance as she threaded the long, thin needle through the frame’s guide and slowly and carefully pierced the Dalek’s cortex. After a few minutes, the injection was complete and Delaney withdrew the needle. She cleaned the site and retracted the stabilizer pins. “She’s done. I’ll put her back in her casing and let her rest for a while.” She looked to Hopkins. “I’m good here. You can go.”

Hopkins nodded, looking to Amy’s sedated form and giving one of her limp tentacles a gentle pet. “Sleep well, girl. See you in a bit.” That last part was meant only for Amy as Hopkins turned away, pulling off his gloves and disposing of them, along with his mask. As he left the lab, he still felt slightly rankled by Delaney’s attitude, but he shrugged it off. They were functioning with a skeleton crew until the next solar cycle and most of the remaining nonessential laboratory staff were scattered about the different workstations. Tensions were understandably high, perhaps even more so with the sudden arrival of the Doctor.

Strolling down the corridor, Hopkins headed to the galley. He needed a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got caught up with some other things, so this chapter took longer to write. Also had to do some more quick-and-dirty basic research for my technobabble, which tends to trip up my flow.
> 
> Tfw an author's characters are smarter than the author lol


	6. Meeting with High Command

The Doctor gave a sigh, watching the small group of staff assemble around the conference table. “Why is it that in any military installation, I’m always given the highest security clearance by virtue of being myself?”

General Pendleton either didn’t hear him or chose not to dignify the comment with a response. He waited until the rest of the personnel seated themselves before activating a video monitor, the emblem of Draconian High Command emblazoned in the middle of the screen. “Doctor, I’m fairly certain you know why you’re here.”

“To save you lot with a bit of Dalek pest control,” the Doctor immediately leaned back in his seat, propping his legs onto the table. “I know the drill. Nothing’s changed since UNIT, has it? I’m still your Plan A.”

Pendleton folded his arms, glaring at the Doctor’s shoes. He noisily cleared his throat and gave an exaggerated nod. It took a few more grunts and a firmer nod before the Time Lord took the hint and sat up. Satisfied, Pendleton straightened. “Our Plan A, Doctor, would’ve been to carpet-bomb the Daleks until they were little more than a stain. But, the Draconians wouldn’t hear of it, naturally.” He cast a hard look to Axolatus, who sat on the Doctor’s right. “I was actually hoping that you, Doctor, could perhaps provide us with some suggestions that would satisfy Lord Kamphetht. I suggested that perhaps we capture the DAL-13 mass driver and turn it against the Daleks.”

“I’m sorry, General,” the young woman to the Doctor’s left spoke, “but that’s a really stupid plan.”

The Doctor couldn’t help but smirk. He could tell that he was going to like this person already.

Pendleton stared hard at the woman in overalls and a messy cropped haircut. He leaned back and folded his arms, like a teacher before a troublemaking student. “Stupid, is it? Well, then, enlighten us.”

“The mass driver’s too big to use effectively as any sort of weapon, and the installation itself’s set up to serve as an engine. You gonna use a glorified jet engine to chuck big rocks at the Daleks?” The woman cocked her head, waiting for Pendleton’s response. “Me and Saldor’s told this to you a dozen times. I dunno why you’re so obsessed with it, honestly.”

The Doctor didn’t wait for Pendleton to reply. “She’s right, Teddy. There’s no point in wasting time on it. If it was intended to be a weapon, the Daleks would’ve used it by now. And for that matter, if your military had any intelligence, it wouldn’t have let the Daleks even build it to this point! The Draconians would have intervened long before you even knew what it was.”

The woman pointed at the Doctor with her thumb. “What he said.”

By this point, Pendleton had been lectured into silence and could not begin to formulate a response. Instead, he cleared his throat and dismissed the discussion with a wave of his hand, in favor of a brief change of subject. “Well, Doctor, you’ve now met our lead engineer, Sydney O’Flannery. She heads our mechanical division, and, yes, is a bit…outspoken at times.”

Sydney proffered her hand. “Just telling the truth, Doc.”

“Keep it up,” the Doctor shook her hand, “we need more people willing to tell authority when they’re being nitwits.”

Axolatus, who had remained silent for the majority of the time, finally spoke up. “Our sources indicate that the mass driver isn’t even complete. Construction halted after your last raid and had been slow to progress until recently.” He glanced down at a tablet in his lap. “High Command suspects that the Daleks needed time to assign and retrain a new engineer. Construction efforts have increased in the last two years, but we see no indications of completion. Mining output had also increased. There seems to be evidence of stockpiling raw ore.”

“Probably payloads for the driver,” Sydney cut in. “Any ferromagnetic ore would do, honestly.”

Axolatus nodded. “Most likely in preparation for when the Daleks finally leave the system.”

The Doctor watched the two speak and then looked to Pendleton. “Teddy, explain something to me. If this is indeed simply a scientific endeavor by the Daleks, why are you so eager to lay waste to them?”

“Because, Doctor,” Pendleton leveled his gaze at the Time Lord, “Daleks are disgusting and manipulative and even when they’re not up to something, that’s when they’re most certainly up to something! I’ve seen these things play their ‘scientific’ role for years, Doctor. Years! Years upon years of doing absolutely nothing remarkable and the minute we look away,” he slammed both hands flat on the table, making Sydney and Axolatus jump, “dead.” He leaned close, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “I’ve been fighting the Daleks for years while you’ve been galavanting around the cosmos. Believe you me, Doctor, I’ve seen what the Daleks can do. There is no such thing as a peaceful Dalek. There is no such thing as a Dalek ceasefire. The only way we can have the slightest edge is to destroy them before they destroy us.”

The Doctor sat in silence, allowing Pendleton to rant. The grizzled war veteran had a fair point. He risked a glance to Axolatus. “Oh, I understand, Teddy. I also know that the Draconians feel the same way. But, if they were absolutely certain that the Dalek activity in their system were a prelude to attack, I’m confident they would have acted long before this point.”

Axolatus looked up and nodded. “Our warships have been in position before Earth Command got here.”

“And besides,” the Doctor continued, “what about Amy? She seems perfectly peaceable. Granted, she may have only gotten this way because like any addict, she needs her fix. But I’d say that from what I saw, you’ve got the makings of an effective program.”

Pendleton scoffed. “Oh, sure. We’ll just enact widespread Dalek lobotomies! Perhaps we’ll weaponize it; shoot icepicks at them!”

Beside the Doctor, Sydney slapped her face with her palm. He could feel her frustration and wondered how best to defuse the situation. Thankfully, Axolatus stood and reached across the table to tap a button beside the monitor. “Incoming transmission from High Command.”

The Draconian emblem faded and was replaced by the face of the High Commander, Lord Kamphetht. “So, General, have you decided to abandon the mass driver plan?”

Pendleton sputtered. “Sir, I thought—”

“Please,” Kamphetht waved him off. “I discussed the possibility with my technicians and they agreed that it’s of no consequence. It’s not even complete.”

Sydney gave the Doctor a satisfied smirk, which he returned.

In an attempt to save face, Pendleton changed the subject and directed his focus to the Doctor. “I’ve brought in the Doctor. He may be able to lend some insight to our Dalek problem.”

The Doctor shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “I’ve nothing to offer than what you’ve already covered. No need to retread this. Though,” he looked to Sydney, “you said the mass driver was an engine, correct?”

Sydney nodded. “We suspect that they may turn the asteroid into a vessel to move it out of the system. It doesn’t look like they can really aim it.”

“Our researchers agree and suspect that the Daleks plan to use Hasephlux’s gravity well to slingshot the asteroid out into space,” Kamphetht confirmed.

Pendleton looked somewhat confused—astronavigation was never his strong suit. “And why should I be concerned about any of this after you’ve spent the last half hour telling me that the mass driver was useless?”

The Doctor sighed and motioned to Axolatus, “May I borrow your tablet, please? Thank you.” Standing, he opened a note-taking program—the interface was similar to tablets he had used in other Earth Command timelines—and held the screen to face the table and conference monitor. “Since Teddy works better with visual aids, let’s pretend that this big circle is our planet,” he drew a circle with his fingertip, and then a smaller circle adjacent to it, “and this is DAL-13. Basically, what we suspect the Daleks will do is get this mass driver fired up, which will make the asteroid move. They’ll then decrease the asteroid’s descent within the orbit of the planet,” he traced his finger around the larger circle, gradually narrowing the revolution, “and when they get to a certain orbital level, PYEW!” He quickly ricochetted his finger around the circle and off the screen. “The asteroid will shoot off into space, using the planet’s own gravity to propel it!” The Doctor handed the tablet back to Axolatus. “Gravity-assisted slingshot. A very efficient way to travel about. Earth’s been using it since the Voyager probe days.”

Pendleton nodded slowly, finally beginning to grasp the concept. “So, that’s it, then? We just sit here and let the Daleks do that? Finish up and let them take the asteroid to their base? You know that that’s inviting trouble, right? They’ll think we’ve gone soft.”

Kamphetht didn’t seem too bothered. “The Daleks know that if they try anything in our system, that their destruction is assured. We have them outgunned. A single warship could level their base.”

“Then why don’t we do it?!” Pendleton snapped, rounding on the screen as if he could somehow hit Kamphetht through it. “That Malcarbonium is a valuable resource to them and we’re just going to sit here and let them take it? For all we know, this could be leading up to something big. The Daleks haven’t invaded your space yet, Lord Kamphetht, but they will. Mark my words, they will.”

The Doctor sat, propping his legs up on the table once again. He was growing quite tired of Pendleton’s bullheadedness. “There’s really nothing you can do that won’t invite Dalek retaliation. Seriously, and I can’t believe that I’m saying this, it’d be better if you just let the Daleks have the asteroid. Unless you fire the asteroid into the planet, of course.”

Pendleton turned, his eyebrow raised. “What?”

“Oh, you know… adjust the trajectory so that the asteroid’s orbital descent is too steep and it gets caught in the gravity well and sucked into the upper atmosphere,” the Doctor shrugged. “Personally, I’d just leave and let the Draconians handle it. They’ve got it under control.”

“Indeed,” Kamphetht cut in. “We really didn’t require Earth Command out here.”

“That’s humans for you,” the Doctor looked to the screen with a tired grin, “always got to make everything about themselves.”

Sydney stood. “Sorry to run, but I got work to do. Permission to leave.”

Pendleton waved her out. “Go. Go. We’re about done here anyway.”

Sydney nodded and headed for the door. “See ya round, Doc.”

The Doctor gave her a wave. “Likewise.” 

“This transmission is over,” Kamphetht announced. “It was good to see you again, Doctor. I only wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Same, Lord Kamphetht. Give my regards to the Prince,” the Doctor nodded. As the screen winked out, he turned to look at Pendleton. The man seemed deep in thought. “I’m sorry, Teddy, but it’s really in your best interest that you do not interfere. Offensive measures will not only invite more Dalek hostility, but also Draconian retaliation. You have an ally in the Draconian Empire and it’s not worth losing over a tiny mining outpost.” He stood, heading for the door.

“The Daleks won’t just stop at this, and you know it. This is a prelude to an attack. We should get them before they get us.” Pendleton didn’t even look up.

“That may be, but such preemptive strikes are wholly unwise. Observe them if you want, but don’t invite more trouble than you’re prepared to handle,” the Doctor left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what's hard to write? Transitional chapters. Also, having to self-isolate should allow me more time to write. And yay, more technobabble. I will never tire of it.


	7. Awakening

It had been several days since the Doctor’s unplanned arrival on Sojourn Station, and, as he had come to expect from many of his adventures, he had found himself seamlessly integrated into the station personnel and their general day-to-day activities. It seemed that no matter where he journeyed, the Doctor was welcomed within scientific teams and military squadrons as if he had trained with them for years. Without question, he was privy to the comings and goings of nonessential staff with the two-week solar cycle, the observations of Dalek activity within the DAL-13 ore refinery, and he was even included in a briefing with Draconian High Command about a possible timeline for when they and Earth Command suspect that the Daleks will fire the mass driver and finally leave the system.

Mostly, however, the Doctor spent his days following the reprogrammed Dalek, Amy, around the station. Amy’s typical day consisted of assisting in the bio lab and engineering, with the occasional galley errand around mealtime. It was during one of these errands that the Doctor followed the Dalek, having decided to partake in a meal of his own and to assist in any way that he could. The errand completed, the Doctor took the proffered tray of drinks while Amy was handed a bag of food and they exited the galley, casually making their way back to the bio lab.

The parcel swayed slightly as Amy maneuvered into the corridor, the bag’s handles slung over the shaft of her manipulator sucker. She swiveled her eyestalk to look at the Doctor. “Thank you for your assistance.”

The Doctor smiled at her, “You’re quite welcome, Amy.” He walked along with the Dalek, allowing his thoughts to drift back to his first day on the station. He had watched Amy dutifully follow orders, perform tasks with precision, and he had even watched her play! The level at which the Dalek performed alongside her human caretakers and fellow scientific staff gave the Doctor a small measure of hope that perhaps somewhere, some day, in some far off parallel universe, the whole of the Dalek race could actually coexist peacefully with the galaxy’s myriad of denizens.

As they approached the bio lab, the Doctor stepped aside to allow Amy access to the control panel. The bag slid backwards along the metal shaft of her arm as she tilted it and extended the sucker outward to cover the keypad, key in her code, and open the door. “After you, Doc-tor.”

“Why, thank you,” the Doctor gave the Dalek a slight bow, patted her casing, and stepped inside, Amy swiveling and following close behind. Walking over to the nearest cleared countertop, the Doctor set the drinks on it, and then turned and lifted the bag off of Amy’s arm, placing it beside the drinks. “We’ve returned, Dr. Delaney. I’m afraid that the chips you wanted are not going to be as fresh as you’d prefer, what with the vacuum seal and all. I’m surprised they could muster even a close approximation. I doubt you’re growing very good potatoes in hydroponics.”

Elizabeth Delaney emerged from another corner of the lab, pulling off her gloves and disposing them. A sharp, pungent smell wafted to the Doctor’s nose as she got closer, pushing her goggles to her forehead and peering into the bag. “Unfortunately, no. We’re growing an offshoot root species from Red Rocket Rising. Not quite as good as Earth potatoes, but they’ll do,” Delaney sighed, mostly to herself. Reaching into the bag with one hand, she fished out her container, retrieving her drink from the tray with her other. She sat in a chair and opened the box, taking out a morsel and eating it. “At least they cooked it fully this time.”

The Doctor fetched himself a chair and sat down as well, Amy taking up position beside him. He opened his own container and ate a fry, noting the consistency was starchier than Earth potatoes, with a slightly tangy flavor. He savored the bite for a moment, before taking a swallow of his drink. The chips were different than what he was used to with UNIT, but they were not bad. Quite the opposite; he found the difference in flavor and texture to be a welcome change from the usual grease-laden galley fare. Taking another swallow of his drink—a simple lemon seltzer with ice—he gave a nod, still sympathizing with Delaney’s frustration. “Oh, I understand. Regardless if it’s good for the body or not, the old Earth chips just have that certain and irresistible _je ne sais quoi_.”

“Mm-hm,” Delaney nodded, focused mainly on eating her lunch so she could return to her work.

Amy watched them both eat for a few minutes before she finally spoke. “I am currently not logged in. Do you want me to log in and return to my work station? I have finished collating the required data and my work log is empty. Do you have a task for me?”

Delaney finally looked up from her meal. “Hm? Oh, no, not at the moment, Amy. I do not require assistance with this project today.”

The Doctor’s interest was piqued and he peered at Delaney from over the rim of his cup. “What project is this? Or is it too secret even for me?” He gave a sly wink.

“No, nothing like that,” Delaney shook her head, “just a small side project. I’ve been rewarming one of the drones and plan to dissect it after lunch. The drones didn’t take to the reconditioning procedures like Amy did, so I’d like to know why.” She placed her drink on the countertop and finished her chips. “I’m not aware of any structural differences between drone and scientist caste Daleks, as we have records of drones being advanced to a higher rank when the need arose. Soldiers becoming squadron leaders, etcetera.” Standing, Delaney threw her trash into the bin and moved to the sink to wash her hands.

“Was the procedure too hard on the drones?” The Doctor remained seated, finishing his drink. “Advancing rank within one’s field is far easier than retraining to meet an advanced-level rank in an entirely different field. Dalek drones are designed to do one thing and one thing only; kill. They may not be wired sufficiently to handle the transition.”

Delaney merely shrugged. “Whatever it was, the drones didn’t survive and I’d like to know why.” She glanced at Amy. “You were a good girl today, Amy, and you completed all your tasks. Report to Engineering and take the Doctor with you. You are dismissed.”

“I obey,” Amy swiveled her dome and looked at the Doctor. “Follow me, Doc-tor.”

The Doctor finally stood, wiping his hands on his pants and disposing of his garbage in the bin. “Be seeing you, Dr. Delaney.” He gave a wave to the neuroscientist and went to Amy’s side, placing his hand on the back of her casing as he walked. “Lead the way, my dear.”

Delaney watched the Doctor follow Amy out of the laboratory, waiting until the door hissed shut behind them before readjusting her goggles and pulling on a fresh pair of gloves. Returning to the annex, she approached the exam table, where the Dalek drone lay. The octopoid corpse was wrapped in plastic and covered with a pungent-smelling preservative cloth. Carefully, Delaney unwrapped the plastic, rolling the edges to form a barrier and prevent any fluids from spilling over the side of the table. As she tucked the remaining plastic away from the distended brain sac, she heard the plastic crinkle underneath the exposed tentacles. Delaney paused, trying to avoid making any accidental movements or noise.

She thought she saw a tentacle move.

Slowly, with careful robotic precision, she pulled the overhead light closer to the table, her eyes locked on the tentacles.

This time she was sure of it. The tentacle moved.

Delaney’s heart began to race. This must be rigor, surely. These Daleks had been frozen for years! There is absolutely no way; this movement is either a trick of the light, or a residual nerve impulse stimulated by the corpse’s thaw. Her eyes locked on the tentacles, Delaney lifted the preservative sheet off of the mutant’s brain and body. Her eyes moved from the tentacles to the creature’s main body and she stood there, her breath held tight, watching.

Did the Dalek just breathe…?

It was a shallow breath, and Delaney reasoned that it could be escaping gases, but she saw the flesh balloon out above the sealed vestigial eye socket where the creature’s larger lung was situated.

“It can’t be alive,” Delaney chuckled to herself, dispelling her racing thoughts with a wave of her hand. “This is silly…” Laughing, she walked over to her instrument trolley and opened a drawer, fishing her stethoscope from it and putting the buds into her ears. “It’s just wishful thinking… there’s no way…” Still chuckling, she approached the corpse and placed the diaphragm against it, under the closed eye, and waited. After a moment, she repositioned it just above the mouth remnants.

It had a heartbeat.

“Oh my god—” Delaney almost dropped her stethoscope as she scrambled to clear away the remaining plastic and dig through her equipment for a warming pad. “Oh my god, oh my god, it’s alive, it’s bloody alive…!” Finally finding the pad, she plugged it in and brought it to the exam table, quickly sliding the Dalek onto it. “You’re still alive… you must’ve been in hibernation!”

She had read reports of Dalek mutants entering a state of suspended animation, but she had surmised that those states were caused and maintained by the creature’s casing. From what she had read, reports of the creature itself hibernating seemed to only mention the reconnaissance caste, not the bog-standard drones that most people were used to seeing on the battlefield. Fumbling with her computer, Delaney accessed her voice log. “Dissection aborted at 1430 hours. The Dalek drone is alive. I have detected a weak pulse. The creature has been placed on a warming tray and I am about to provide it with supplemental oxygen.”

Unprepared to deal with the sudden arrival of a live specimen, Delaney haphazardly gathered the equipment necessary to revive the mutant and sustain it until she can acquire another incubator. With a hiss, she opened the valve on the oxygen tank and attached a mask and tubing, snaking it over to the exam table and placing the mask over the creature’s vestigial face. Holding the mask in place, Delaney smiled tightly at the Dalek drone, watching as its subtle movements became more noticeable with its gradual warming. Even its respiration had returned with regularity; the pale, moist flesh distending with each breath.

“Respiration returning to normal. The Dalek is alive,” Delaney dictated. “It will be catalogued and placed in an incubator. At 0700 hours tomorrow, I will examine and prep it for reconditioning. End log.” Her wish for more Dalek test subjects had been granted, she mused. Perhaps the other drones survived as well. It was too late in the day to check now, as she needed to stabilize this one so she can prep a containment unit.

Lifting her goggles to her forehead, Delaney watched the Dalek’s tentacles writhe and twist as it warmed. It almost seemed to be enjoying it. Delaney leaned in close as the creature’s eye slowly opened. Her smile tightened with gleaming intent. “Welcome back, my friend.”

The Dalek suddenly leapt onto her face, clamping its tentacles tightly around the woman’s head and neck. Delaney tried to utter a scream, but the slimy flesh and overwhelming stench of noxious preservatives choked her as she stumbled backwards into the instrument trolley, tools clattering to the floor and her backside hitting the countertop behind her. Her flailing arms took a chair with her, scattering her files and equipment, and she crumpled to the floor. The Dalek’s flesh clung to her nose and mouth like a thick film, her gasps filled with mucous and her screams muted. Within seconds of hitting the floor, the Dalek released her and scuttled off, leaving Delaney sprawled on her back, gasping and coughing. Her vision was blurry as she tossed herself onto her side, seeing the tips of the Dalek’s tentacles disappear under the refrigeration unit.

Knowing that she did not have sufficient time to recover, Delaney hauled herself unsteadily across the floor, grabbing a discarded scalpel along the way. Coughing, she crawled on her elbows and stomach, dragging herself to the refrigeration unit and looking underneath. She could see the mutant as a blurry blob huddled against the far wall. The scalpel was clutched tightly and held just out of view; she was not sure if she’d actually use it, but she certainly felt safer with it in her hand.

“I know,” Delaney gasped, attempting to reason with the Dalek, “I know this, this must seem… scary to you… We—we assumed you were dead…! I’m as confused… as you are…” She coughed again, her vision finally clearing. “But, you’re a rational creature… I revived you… I can help you…!”

The Dalek glared at her, its single eye gleaming in the darkness of the crawlspace.

Crawling closer, Delaney reached under the cooler. “If you trust me… just this once… I can help you…” She extended her hand, palm open. “I mean you no harm… I can help you. You have to trust me…”

The Dalek didn’t move. It stared coldly at her for a long and tense moment, and then gave a single, slow blink of its eye. Slowly, the creature crawled toward her open hand. Delaney smiled at it, urging it to come closer. “That’s right… I won’t hurt you… You can trust me. I’m your friend.”

Like a grotesque facsimile of a squid, the Dalek extended a tentacle out and touched Delaney’s palm. Delaney remained still, watching it. The creature extended another tentacle, then a third, and then a fourth, until the frontmost pairs were in contact with the scientist’s arm.

“Good… that’s right… I’m your friend,” Delaney rubbed one of the tentacles with her thumb in an effort to coax the creature out from under the cooling unit. “You’re safe, I won’t hurt you… You can trust me…”

The Dalek quickly wrapped its tentacles around Delaney’s wrist, and then violently yanked her arm with enough force to cause Delaney’s head to hit the bottom panel hard enough for her vision to go white. She felt a sudden stab of pain in her wrist and she pulled her arm out with a shriek. Rocking backwards onto her rear and scrambling toward her desk, she risked a glimpse at her wrist, seeing an angry puncture wound, the redness spreading rapidly. The Dalek had stung her. Delaney thrust her other hand into her pocket and squeezed her panic button, the laboratory’s alarms immediately bursting into a loud cacophony.

Elizabeth Delaney’s breaths came to her in ragged gasps, her heart pounding. She clamped her hand over her wrist. The sting radiated heat and an electric fire sensation was quickly overtaking her entire forearm as the venom raced through her system. As she scrambled toward the other end of the lab to retrieve the anti-venom, she heard the door behind her hiss open. Without looking to see who entered, Delaney shouted, “I’ve been stung! Get the anti-venom from the fridge; I’ve been stung!”

The stinging flames engulfed her right arm to the shoulder and her stomach immediately cramped and burned, roiling and lurching, and she fought the urge to vomit. Her eyes felt hot and her vision was closing into a grey tunnel; she could barely see the Dalek mutant vanish behind the refrigeration unit. “The anti-venom! Quickly!”

She felt someone’s hands on her shoulders and heard their tinny voice, but couldn’t discern their words. The Dalek’s venom was overwhelming her and she was fighting to remain conscious. A question was asked of her—Delaney could only tell by the tone of the voice—but she couldn’t answer without vomiting all over herself. Someone leaned in front of her, but her vision was too blurry to make out features beyond white hair. The tunnel at the edges of her eyes closed in as the electric flames of the venom spread across her chest and Elizabeth blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quarantine got me writing, hopefully with a bit more regularity. Thankfully this chapter provided a through-line for the next two chapters, so they should be written up in a more timely fashion.

**Author's Note:**

> This story started off as a dream featuring the Third Doctor and the Dalek's name comes from said dream. Over the course of several rewrites and introduction of different plot elements, the story has changed considerably. 
> 
> It has been years since I've last written fanfic, so I'm coming back to the medium a bit unpolished.
> 
> Edit: Typos and word changes


End file.
